


The Frog Choir

by George_the_Pumpkin



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Orchestra, almost everyone plays an instrument, an excuse to make people sing my favorite or ridiculous songs, basically the whole school, harry plays the cello, harry potter but it's a musical, i'll add more tags when i think of more, just he plays the cello, let this boy join the orchestra, not to be confused with the harry potter musical, the frog choir, the soft au harry needed
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-03-03
Updated: 2021-03-09
Packaged: 2021-03-16 15:40:21
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 8,693
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29827161
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/George_the_Pumpkin/pseuds/George_the_Pumpkin
Summary: Harry plays the cello. That's basically it.
Comments: 16
Kudos: 4





	1. Me and My Cello

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The usual disclaimer: I don't own anything and am not getting paid.  
> This idea came to me while watching the Double Trouble music video and saw the students playing the cello and harp on the sidelines.  
> Big thank you to my beta Run Im a Natural Disaster!

Enthusiastic applause filled the concert hall. 

The sound echoing and bouncing around the amplified space. From his vantage point on stage, Harry could see Petunia and Vernon proudly standing, effulgent smiles lighting their faces, clapping and profusely shouting at the people around them, “Those are our boys”.

The sight filled Harry with feelings of pride and accomplishment. Trembling with excitement, he couldn’t help happily waving at them before cheerfully looking over his shoulder to share a secret smile with Dudley. 

Dudley rolled his eyes exasperated, sticking his tongue out playfully at Harry before - with a great sigh - he mockingly waved at his parents, his chubby hands flapping like great dead fish. 

Harry beamed.

And to think it all started with a violin.

♩ ♪ ♫ ♬ ♭ ♩ ♪ ♫ ♬ ♭ ♩ ♪ ♫ ♬ ♭

  
  


When Harry Potter had been left on the Dursleys' doorstep like a bottle of milk Petunia had sworn that she would never like the boy. 

The only reason she didn’t leave him there was because what would the neighbors think of a baby left out on a doorstep in November.

It was inhumane. 

Then there was the matter of the letter that that mad headmaster had left with him. The boy gave them protection from the dark wizards and dark lords running about trying to kill him and by extension them. 

She was cursed every day by Lily and her freakishness. 

Why couldn’t she have been normal like her? If she was normal, she wouldn’t have gotten blown up and left a baby for her poor sister to take care of. 

Since she couldn’t leave him she’d done the next best thing. 

She stuck him in the cupboard under the stairs to forget about him and keep his taint away from her Diddums. 

This was how it went for years. 

The boy was forgotten, left under the stairs, only let out to do the chores and make meals when Petunia didn’t feel like it. 

Their routine changed when Petunia couldn’t stand Mrs. Baker of Number 8 crowing about her daughter, the prodigal violinist anymore. Fuming, the next day she took the two boys - two musical prodigies were better than one, after all - on an impromptu trip to London to find an instrument to play in the after-school strings program. 

Harry had a look of extreme confusion on his face but he took it in stride, enjoying the trip out of the house and seeing the sights. Dudley had complained that he didn’t want to play some stupid girly instrument and threw a tantrum reminiscent of the meltdown he gave last year over his video game being a different one than the one he asked for. 

Petunia actually scolded him for it, determined that she would not be outdone especially by flouncy Number 8. 

Satisfied with herself, she’d frog-marched a stupified Dudley and awe-filled Harry into the music store.

Harry was immediately entranced with an older cello, made from real wood and finished to shine. It seemed to Harry that it glowed, a burning red that faded into a dark orange. Plucking a few of its strings produced a rich, warm sound that lingered pleasantly in the air. He imagined that it would sound magical when it was in tune. Not wanting to part with it now that he had found his match, so to speak, he settled in to watch Dudley try to weddle himself out of choosing an instrument. 

“But muum, I don’t _need_ to learn a little girlish instrument. Why can’t Harry just do it?”

“It’s not just for girls, Diddums. Now choose something.”

An employee stepped in at this point and stated that “Maybe a bass would be a good fit for the lad”. 

Harry followed the entourage into another room filled with the most gigantic instrument he had ever seen. 

His little six year old body was dwarfed by the six foot tall full-sized bass. 

Dudley had quickly shut up seeing the large instrument. 

Maybe it was because he was in awe or maybe he was daydreaming about all the people he could smack on “accident” with such a large, unwieldy case. 

Either way, when they finally left the music store, Harry had a cello and Dudley a bass. 

♩ ♪ ♫ ♬ ♭ ♩ ♪ ♫ ♬ ♭ ♩ ♪ ♫ ♬ ♭

At first, it was a struggle for both of them. 

Learning to read music was hard; akin to learning a foreign language. 

Plus, the music was _boring,_ they spent weeks learning how to play different rhythms and shaky renditions of Twinkle, Twinkle, and Hot Cross Buns.

It was discouraging; Dudley had wailed loud enough to shake the sky that he _hated_ practicing and music and everything to do with his bass. He’d whined and shrieked and thrown tantrum after tantrum, purposefully snapping the strings, because it was unfair that he was being forced to do this and couldn’t he just stop already?

Even Harry, who was excited at the prospect of learning an instrument, was struggling to muster up any enthusiasm for practicing when it was so far from the expectations he’d had about instantly being able to play whatever he wanted.

To put it succinctly, they wanted to quit.

And then Petunia took them to one of the concerts in London. 

Harry was enraptured by the music. 

The hair on his arms and the back of his neck rose when the cello soloist in _Elegy for Cello and Orchestra_ by Dirk Brosse began to play. The cellist put so much expression into the music, filling him with an aching sorrow and a burning need to be able to play like that. 

Creating such beautiful music that emotion radiates from you into the audience. 

After that, Harry took to practicing like someone who knew that after the basics were down, amazing things could happen. 

He practiced for hours every day. 

His fingers burned spitefully at him, his shoulders and arms ached but the joy of being able to play beautiful music was enough to drown out all of the aches and pains. 

Surprisingly, Dudley did as well. 

He isn’t a prodigy but he learns how to play the music and, eventually, he learns to love it.

Shortly after Harry’s 8th birthday, Petunia deemed them good enough and took them to audition for the local youth symphony. 

Both boys were accepted and Harry worked his way steadily to principal.

And, to his aunt’s smug satisfaction, Mrs. Baker of Number 8 stopped bragging about her daughter. 

At least to Petunia.

♩ ♪ ♫ ♬ ♭ ♩ ♪ ♫ ♬ ♭ ♩ ♪ ♫ ♬ ♭

By the time that Harry’s 11th birthday rolls around, the Dursleys have for the most part accepted him. 

He’s moved out of the cupboard and into Dudley’s second bedroom. 

Dudley’s old and broken toys are thrown out or stored in the attic and new furniture is placed in the room. 

His cello and music collection the focal point of the room. Most preteens have shrines to celebrities and heroes. Harry has his cello. 

He isn’t beaten anymore or starved and the chores are now evenly distributed. 

They even got him contacts, as reading music in glasses was a pain. 

He also does better on his schoolwork now that Dudley isn’t practically failing. Learning the bass has seemingly taught him discipline, and Harry doesn’t get beaten for doing better than him. 

This unlocks something in Harry that he didn’t know had been suppressed. 

A love for learning. 

He had always snuck the books that Dudley got and read them but now he read _everything_. 

The public library had become another favorite place of Harry’s - of course, his most favorite was the local concert hall - he would spend hours in between the stacks reading anything that caught his fancy.

This newfound truce had also resulted in Petunia telling Harry about the wizarding world. 

There were still the rules: no talking about magic especially in front of Dudley or Vernon and no practicing magic. 

She told him about how his parents had really died and his celebrity status and explained that on his 11th birthday a magical school called Hogwarts would send him a letter inviting him to accept.

True to her word, the morning of July 31st a letter in emerald green ink arrived. 

Harry Potter

The Bedroom at the End of the Hall

Number 4 Privet Dr. Surrey

Eagerly he tore it open, skimming the acceptance letter and the supply list then reading it again more closely. ‘ _We await your owl,_ where am I going to find an owl?’

Harry waits until after lunch when Dudley is absorbed in his video game, to mention the letter to his aunt.

“Aunt Petunia, where am I going to find an owl?” Harry asks, showing her the letter.

Petunia points sardonically out the window, “I imagine that that one will do.”

Confused, Harry turned to look and was surprised to see a large tawny owl roosted in the tree next to the garden.

“Oh,” he blinked, collecting himself. He supposed strange things came with going to a magic school. “When can I get my stuff?”

Petunia grimaced. “It will have to wait until Thursday. Vernon will be at work and Dudley with Piers.”

Harry nodded, shouted a quick thank you to Petunia before dashing off to write his acceptance letter before the owl decided to fly off. 

He found some nice stationery and delicately penned his reply making sure to include a question about what the music options at Hogwarts were and if he could bring his cello with him. 

His handwriting had much improved in the last year. 

Never had he been so glad of that fact before. 

Sticking the paper into an envelope, he found some twine and loped outside. The owl was still sitting in the tree. 

Feeling foolish Harry called, “Um, hello?”

The bird opened an eye before ruffling its feathers and swooping down to land on his arm. Its talons dug into his arm but not enough to hurt. Clumsily, Harry tied the letter to the leg the owl stuck out. 

“Well, that’s that then,” Harry said. And without further ado, the bird took off. 

♩ ♪ ♫ ♬ ♭ ♩ ♪ ♫ ♬ ♭ ♩ ♪ ♫ ♬ ♭

The next few days dragged by. The sort where you consciously experience every second of every hour of every day. 

He imagined every possible response to his questions. Ranging from the wizarding world didn’t even have music and they thought he was insane talking about this _music_ thing to Hogwarts had a prestigious orchestra that he could never dream of being good enough to join. 

None of them were good scenarios. 

The anxiety that these scenarios filled him with was tempered by the excitement of going to see the wizarding world. 

There were people that could do magic! Did they talk differently? dress differently, in robes and pointy hats? Did their society work differently since they had magic? There must be other laws to regulate it. Was there a separate government or were they under the Prime Minister? Did the Prime Minister know about magic? 

A thousand questions swirled around his head begging for answers. 

♩ ♪ ♫ ♬ ♭ ♩ ♪ ♫ ♬ ♭ ♩ ♪ ♫ ♬ ♭

On Thursday, before they left Petunia took Harry's chin in hand and rubbed concealer on his scar. Stepping back, she examined his face before nodding decisively and nodded towards the car.

The ride to London was done mostly in awkward silence. The radio played soft classical music and Harry stared out the window at the passing countryside and cities.

He was skeptical about the dingy old pub. The barman was nice though and opened the portal to Diagon Alley for them. 

The dingy old pub was immediately forgotten about.

Diagon Alley was… well, magical. 

Fantastical colors and buildings and clothes. Fireworks lit up the sky and kites flew in looping circles. People lined the street, ogling through windows, socializing, or going about their business. 

It was chaos and Harry loved it.

Petunia went about scowling at everything but made polite with the shopkeepers and goblins. Though Ollivanders message and that rude blonde boy tested her patience. The most strange reaction was to a man dressed all in black, she paled and ushered him out of the apothecary rather sharply.

Despite this, Harry was on cloud nine. He couldn’t imagine ever feeling as happy as he did now.

Though this theory was later disproved when his reply came. A few days after their excursion to London Harry found an owl in the same tree by the garden. This one left after he had deprived it of its letter. 

The letter thanked him for his acceptance and confirmed that he could take his cello with him as there was a ‘Frog Choir’ at Hogwarts.

A 'Frog Choir’. 

Despite all of his questions from those two words. Harry grinned like a loon.

♩ ♪ ♫ ♬ ♭ ♩ ♪ ♫ ♬ ♭ ♩ ♪ ♫ ♬ ♭

The rest of August flew by and before he knew it it was September 1st.

The only one who took Harry to the platform was Aunt Petunia. Vernon had refused to go, citing he would feel out of place, and took Dudley to the cinema. 

Kings Cross Station was bustling with people and trains. 

Harry had to fight against the tide to follow Petunia to the barrier between platforms 9 and 10. Petunia had told him about the entrance but still, going through a brick wall was a disconcerting feeling. 

Hesitantly cracking his eyes open, he saw the Hogwarts Express, a brilliant scarlet, and steam was pouring out onto the platform creating a sort of fog. 

How was it that even the train looked magical? 

He was pulled from his thoughts by his aunt’s voice. 

“You’ll be wanting to find a compartment soon before they’re all filled,” she said briskly and then added hesitantly, “I expect you to write at least once a week and… have fun.”

Harry smiled at her. “I promise. See you in a few months then.”

Nodding to her he half-turned to go before abruptly turning towards her again and hugged her. 

It lasted only a moment and he beat a hasty retreat.

Finding a compartment was easier than lugging his belongings onto the train and into the rack. He chose one on the side by the platform and waved goodbye to Petunia when the train pulled away.

He had read all of his school books in the weeks waiting for September 1st to arrive. He was especially looking forward to transfiguration, defense against the dark arts, and potions. The ability to change something into something else sounded amazing and the spells in the defense book seemed so exciting. Potions looked very complicated, it reminded him of chemistry, but the things they could do- wow. The possibilities made his eyes gleam with excitement. 

Settling down, he prepared to read and watch the countryside fly by. 

Halfway in he was interrupted by a girl, who introduced herself as Hermione Granger, looking for a toad, and then later by the rude blond boy, who Harry learned was Draco Malfoy. He quickly shut down both conversations by saying he had not seen a toad and that he had no idea where Harry Potter was.

When the trolley came by he decided to splurge a little and got a couple chocolate frogs and a box of Bertie Botts Every Flavor Beans. 

A voice echoing through the train saying they would be arriving at Hogsmeade in 5 minutes interrupted his reading. 

Glancing up quickly he realized that the sky was now dark and stars were beginning to shine through. He stuffed his book back into his trunk and hastily pulled his robes on. He was just smoothing the fabric when the train rolled to a stop with a great hiss of steam.

He looked at his belongings and wondered how difficult it was going to be carrying both his trunk and his cello to the school. There’s nothing for it though, so he grabbed his trunk in his left hand and his cello in his right.

Luckily, his compartment was near an exit. 

Carrying a bunch of stuff in a cramped corridor was always an adventure in agility.

He was close to the exit when someone stopped him. 

He turned around with a questioning frown on his face.

A tall boy with robes that were lined with blue and a pin stylized with a P stood behind him. “You don’t need to take your belongings with you. Leave them on the train and they’ll be transported to the school.”

“Oh,” Harry thought someone should have said this before. “I’ll just go back then.”

“Just don’t miss Hagrid,” the tall boy warned, then left.

Now worried he would be late, he hastily turned around. An ill-advised move when in a small space especially around other people. As Harry discovered.

When he had spun around, his cello had hit a tall red-headed boy launching him out of the door and tumbling down the hill.

Harry stared at the space the boy had stood before hurrying back to his compartment embarrassed. He stored his things quickly, wanting to go check on the other boy.

This quickly left his mind though when he saw the others following a large man with a lantern already halfway down a steep path. 

The trek that would have been harrowing going slowly was disastrous when running to catch up with the group. Harry slid down the hill more than he walked. At least it wasn’t muddy; the dirt that covered his back would brush off at least. 

It would have been humiliating, standing in front of everyone caked in mud.

The momentum from his slide down the hill had almost sent him off the path. Brushing the worst of it off, he straightened and started running again. He almost plowed past the group when they turned a corner and stopped at the shore of a dark lake. 

The giant man holding the lantern was yelling, “Yeh’ll get yer firs’ sight o’ Hogwarts in a sec, jus’ round this bend here.” There was a loud “Oooooh!” in response but Harry was too busy trying to stop before he fell into the lake. 

Finding his balance, he looked up and immediately lost his breath.

 _Hogwarts: A History_ had said that the school was a castle but Harry hadn’t really believed it. 

Why would a school be in a castle? That made no sense. 

But there it was. 

It was enormous and forbidding. 

The fact that it was atop a high mountain added to this effect. 

But even though the dark stone walls seemed imposing, the castle gave off the aura of belonging. 

The windows shone and twinkled in the reflection of the lake. Boats bobbed in the water, presumably to carry them across. 

Hagrid’s words confirmed this. 

“No more’n four to a boat!” Hagrid called, pointing to the boats. Harry climbed in the one he was closest to. Two girls followed him and the boy he had sent flying.

“Everyone in?” shouted Hagrid, who had a boat to himself, “Right then – FORWARD!”

Harry mostly ignored the other people in his boat, taking in the atmosphere of the castle. He didn’t know what to say to the redhead and he especially didn’t want to say anything in front of other people in fear that they would laugh at him. 

As the first boats reached the cliff face Hagrid yelled, “Heads down!”. Harry craned his neck awkwardly to see where they were going. A curtain of ivy had been hiding a tunnel that was presumably leading them underneath the castle. Up ahead was a kind of harbor. 

Strange that it was underneath the school.

They all staggered out of the boats onto the rocky shore. Waiting for Hagrid to finish checking the boats. He must have found something because he was shouting, “Oi, you there! Is this your toad?”

“Trevor!” a boy cried exuberantly. Running to snatch up his pet. Harry imagined this was the same toad that girl was helping someone called Neville to find. 

It would be weird if there was more than one person with a missing toad.

They were then led up a stone path that led onto the grassy lawn before the castle doors. Up close the castle seemed even more daunting and wonderful.

Once he had reached the doors their guide had turned around and asked, “Everyone here? You there, still got yer toad?” Not waiting for an answer he turned back around and knocked on the large door.

Almost immediately the door swung open. Harry half expected it to creak but the door glided smoothly. Standing in the open doorway was a stern-faced witch in emerald-green robes. Not someone to cross, Harry mentally noted. 

“The firs’ years, Professor McGonagall,'' the man said. 

Harry had a moment of his usual sass, 'who else would we be? Do they usually have random kids turn up at night?'

“Thank you, Hagrid. I will take them from here.” She pulled the door further open and ushered them into a small chamber adjacent to the door Harry thought led to where the rest of the school was based on the voices.

“Welcome to Hogwarts,” she began. “The start-of-term banquet will begin shortly, but before you take your seats in the Great Hall, you will be sorted into your Houses. The Sorting is a very important ceremony because, while you are here, your House will be something like your family within Hogwarts. You will have classes with the rest of your house, sleep in your House dormitory, and spend your free time in your House common room.”

Harry didn’t think that sounded very inclusive. 

Having houses and support systems was an excellent idea, but this seemed like rivalry waiting to happen and explode. From that explanation, it sounded like they were almost forbidden from interacting with the other Houses. He felt there was probably an example from history on why this was a bad idea, but he couldn’t think of one off the top of his head. Dragging himself from his musings he realized that he had probably missed quite a portion of Professor McGonagall’s speech.

“-at Hogwarts, your triumphs will earn your House points, while any rule-breaking will lose House points. At the end of the year, the House with the most points is awarded the House Cup, a great honor. I hope each of you will be a credit to whichever house becomes yours.

The Sorting Ceremony will take place momentarily in front of the rest of the school. I suggest you all smarten yourselves up as much as you can while you are waiting.” Here she looked pointedly at Neville who’s cloak was skewed and a tall redheaded boy with dirt smudged on his nose. 

Harry by this point had declared his hair a lost cause. He had spent many times pre-concerts trying to get his hair to lay flat but it just made it into more of a disaster. 

“I shall return when we are ready for you. Please wait quietly.” 

She swept out of the chamber. Harry's nerves tried to crawl up his throat. He brushed the remaining dirt off his robes self consciously. 

As a musician, he had learned to deal with his stage fright so it wasn’t the fact that he would have to be sorted in front of hundreds of teenagers but the doubt that he wasn’t meant to be here. For five years he had believed himself to be a freak and delinquent. And then he thought of himself as an average kid. He got decent grades and excelled in the music program. Looking around him he thought at least he wasn’t the only one. Granger was muttering spells to herself frantically and the redhead looked like he was about to be sick. 

Screaming behind him caused him to jump about a foot in the air. 

Whirling around he about fell over from shock. Around twenty ghosts were streaming into the room, pearly white and transparent. They hadn’t seemed to even notice the terrified first years, too busy arguing about something. 

A monkish man was saying: “Forgive and forget I say, we ought to give him a second chance-”

“My dear Friar, haven’t we given Peeves all the chances he deserves? He gives us all a bad name and you know, he’s not really even a ghost- I say, what are you all doing here?” The ghost wearing a ruff and tights finally noticed them.

Nobody answered.

“New students!” said the Fat Friar. “About to be sorted, I suppose?”

A few people nodded mutely. Harry thought it was a rather stupid question. What else would they be?

“Hope to see you in Hufflepuff! My old House, you know.”

“Move along now,” said a sharp voice. “The Sorting Ceremony’s about to start.”

Professor McGonagall was back, and if she had to tell the ghosts the same thing every year Harry imagined it would get pretty annoying. 

She ordered them to form a line and follow her into the Great Hall.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for Reading!


	2. Loyal Brave True

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As I have up to chapter 4 done, I just need to edit them, updates will be quick for a bit and then slow down some.

The Great Hall was another place Harry had had a hard time believing the facts in  _ Hogwarts: A History. _ The ceiling of the hall was bewitched to look like the sky, as he heard Granger repeating. He had imagined it as a stained glass window or something but it looked like there wasn’t even a roof. There were thousands of floating candles lighting the room and adding to the mystical effect. Harry wondered how they stopped the wax from dripping on everyone’s heads. Four long tables were arranged parallel to each other and at the end of the hall, a smaller table was on a raised dais. Overlooking the hall and the students, the staff table. 

Professor McGonagall led them to a space between the staff table and the House tables. Harry rather wished they were all on one side so he knew which way to face. 

Professor McGonagall had produced a small four-legged stool and had placed a raggedy hat on it. Harry had the absurd thought that Aunt Petunia would hate it and refuse to allow it near her.

Harry was rather confused, were they supposed to pull a rabbit out of the hat. He had been to a magic show once when he was 9 for Dudley’s birthday. At the time he had been gobsmacked that Aunt Petunia had allowed it but was too overjoyed to question it in the fear that she would change her mind. One of the tricks the magician had done was pulling a white rabbit from a top hat. But everyone was staring at the hat like they expected it to do something like-.

The brim of the hat opened in a parody of a mouth and began to  _ sing. _

_ “Oh you may not think I'm pretty, _

_ But don't judge on what you see, _

_ I'll eat myself if you can find _

_ A smarter hat than me. _

_ You can keep your bowlers black, _

_ Your top hats sleek and tall, _

_ For I'm the Hogwarts Sorting Hat _

_ And I can cap them all. _

_ There's nothing hidden in your head _

_ The Sorting Hat can't see, _

_ So try me on and I will tell you _

_ Where you ought to be. _

_ You might belong in Gryffindor, _

_ Where dwell the brave at heart, _

_ Their daring, nerve, and chivalry _

_ Set Gryffindors apart; _

_ You might belong in Hufflepuff, _

_ Where they are just and loyal, _

_ Those patient Hufflepuffs are true _

_ And unafraid of toil; _

_ Or yet in wise old Ravenclaw, _

_ if you've a ready mind, _

_ Where those of wit and learning, _

_ Will always find their kind; _

_ Or perhaps in Slytherin _

_ You'll make your real friends, _

_ Those cunning folks use any means _

_ To achieve their ends. _

_ So put me on! Don't be afraid! _

_ And don't get in a flap! _

_ You're in safe hands (though I have none) _

_ For I'm a Thinking Cap!” _

Everyone burst into applause and Harry was so confused it took a few moments for it to register and realize he should join in.

Professor McGonagall stepped up, holding a long roll of parchment. 

A rickety old stool was placed next to her.

“When I call your name, you will put on the sorting hat and sit on the stool to be sorted,” she said and then started. “Abbott, Hannah!”

One of the girls he had shared the boat ride with stumbled from the line and made her way over to the stool. The hat when she put it on covered half her face.

“HUFFLEPUFF!” shouted the hat, after a moment's pause.

The table on the right erupted into cheers and applause as she went to join them.

“Bones, Susan!”

The other girl from the boat ride.

“HUFFLEPUFF!”

“Boot, Terry and Brocklehurst, Mandy,” both went to Ravenclaw. “Brown, Lavender” the first Gryffindor and “Bulstrode, Millicent” the first Slytherin.

The Slytherin table seemed to be the most reserved. They greeted their new housemates with polite clapping and a few nods. 

When he had been reading about the Houses. Harry had tried to be as objective as possible. The books scorned Slytherin because of the high number of dark wixen that came out of their house. But then Slytherin was the house of the ambitious. It made sense that people who wanted to take over the world came from the house with that trait. 

The only house to actually not be stigmatized and looked down on was Gryffindor. Ravenclaw was seen as snooty bookworms and Hufflepuffs as useless duffers. But Gryffindor was the house filled with heroes and adventurers, the kind of people stories were told about. Nobody cared about the brains or the sidekicks. Just the guy who punches things. 

“Granger, Hermione” was sorted into Gryffindor which caused the redheaded boy to groan.

The longer the sorting went on the sicker Harry felt. Waiting up here was a kind of special torture. The anticipation for your turn and the desperation that your turn never came. And when Neville Longbottom took forever to be sorted into Gryffindor, taking much longer than the sandy-haired girl who had been with him on the boat ride who took almost a full minute to be sorted. Harry desperately wished that his would be quick.

Malfoy was sorted into Slytherin immediately. The only time Harry thought he’d be envious of him. Harry was having horrible, anxious thoughts of mistakes and train rides home. 

Harry was glad when the list finally wound down to the Ps. The Patil twins were sorted into Gryffindor and Ravenclaw and then Perks, Sally-Anne into Gryffindor.

Then, finally, it was his turn.

“Potter, Harry!”

Swallowing his nerves, Harry stepped forward. 

Whispers broke out over the hall.

“ _ Potter _ , did she say?”

“ _ The  _ Harry Potter?”

Harry could already tell this was going to get old fast. He had thought of becoming famous for his music not because of something he supposedly did as a baby. 

The last sight he got before the hat was dropped over his head was the hall full of students trying to get a good look at him.

He waited. He didn’t really know what to expect.

“Hmm,” said a small voice in his ear. Harry almost jumped but turned it into a flinch at the last second. “Difficult. Very difficult. Plenty of courage, I see. Not a bad mind either. There’s talent, oh my goodness, yes- and a nice thirst to prove yourself, now that’s interesting. … So where shall I put you?”

_ A mind-reading hat. _ Splendid.

The hat chuckled in his ear.

“Don’t worry, there are no secrets that would interest me,” the hat said. “There’s also quite a bit of loyalty to those who’ve earned your trust. Learning an instrument takes a lot of hard work. Yes. I know just where you’ll fit in.”

Shouting for the whole hall to hear the hat cried, “HUFFLEPUFF!”

The Gryffindor table looked disappointed, the Ravenclaws interested, the Slytherins a mix of glares and intrigue, and the Hufflepuffs ecstatic.

Harry handed the hat back to Professor McGonagall and walked to his new House table.

The other first years were sitting near the teachers' table so he didn’t have to travel far.

He chose a seat between who he thought were Macmillan and Bones.

The boy on the left turned to him, sticking out his hand, he had an arrogant look on his face, like it was an honor for Harry to be introduced to him. “Ernie Macmillan,” he said, confirming his identity. “Of course, we all know who  _ you  _ are.”

“Ignore him,” the girl on his right said. “He’s a prat. Susan Bones, pleased to meet you.” She then gestured to the girl across from her. “This is Hannah Abbott.”

Hannah gave an awkward little wave and a small smile in greeting.

“A pleasure,” he managed to say unsarcastically.

A new voice joined the conversation, “Justin Finch-Fletchley.”

“Zacharias Smith, at your service,” said the boy who had recently joined them. 

Their attention was dragged to the headmaster who had stood up at the podium. 

“Welcome everyone to Hogwarts,” he spoke softly but it carried across the hall, “To our returning students welcome back and to our new students, welcome. I won’t keep you from enjoying your feast so I will only say a few words. And here they are. Nitwit! Blubber! Oddment! Tweak!”

He sat back down and the majority of the hall clapped and cheered.

Harry didn’t know if he should laugh or not. 

“Is he a bit mad?” Harry asked.

Zacharias looked up from his plate, “Dumbledore? He’s something of a genius, but he is quite mad.”

“My mum says that he acts like a doddering fool to make the general public like him more,” Hannah cut in, “and for those idiotic enough to forget that he defeated Grindelwald, underestimate him.”

Harry was terribly confused about what she was talking about and from the looks of it Justin had no idea what they were talking about either. “Who?”

“He was the dark lord before You-know-who. Caused a lot of trouble in the early 1900s,” Susan answered.

“Is there always some dark lord hangin’ around?” Justin asked nervously.

This seemed like an important question to Harry. He hadn’t expected the wizarding world to be full of perfect people but for some reason evil people with magic were a lot more terrifying than evil people with normal- muggle weapons.

“No,” Hannah assured, “we’ve just had some bad luck in recent years. There’s only been a few notable dark wizards Herpo the foul, Morgan le Fay, Emeric the Evil, a couple others.”

Ernie grunted, “Anyway, moving away from dark lords, what are you lot most excited for? I’m looking forward to showing everyone what-for in class. I’m hoping to be named a prefect in fifth year.”

Zacharias rolled his eyes. “We know Ernie. You’ve only told us fifty times.” He paused for a moment before continuing, “I think that flying lessons will be the most exciting class. It’s too bad that first years can’t join the quidditch team or even bring a broom.”

Harry made a mental note to learn about quidditch. This was the second time someone had brought it up to him.

Hannah immediately disagreed with Smith, stating something along the lines of  _ There are better things to do than play Quidditch and that she was looking forward to their first charms class. _

This started a debate about which class would be the most interesting. Ernie and Zacharias were adamant that flying would be the most fun, Susan thought defense against the dark arts was the most useful, and Justin didn’t exactly know but he thought that transfiguration would be particularly interesting. 

“What about you Harry?” Hannah prompted.

“Oh, I think most of the classes sounded really interesting but I guess the thing I’m most interested in is that...um... I heard Hogwarts  _ technically _ has an orchestra so I’m hoping to join that,” Harry admitted. “Although, I have no idea who to talk to about it.”

“Technically?” 

“You could ask Professor Sprout, she’s our Head of House, she’ll probably know.”

Harry thought that was as good a starting place as any. “Yeah, that’s a good idea.”

“Oh, really! I’ll come with you. I want to know if this is a thing too,” Susan interjected, “I play the viola. A lot of purebloods encourage their kids to play an instrument actually. So that they can brag about how sophisticated they are.”

“Technically,” Justin repeated, sounding incredulous. “Is nobody going to acknowledge this very important detail?”

“Psssh, I’m sure it’s fine. I don't know about you but in wizarding culture, music is a big part of education. And I’m sure that as old as Hogwarts is it’s bound to have  _ something _ even if it’s not this orchestra Harry’s talking about.”

“Is it the same with muggles?”

“Yeah. Pretty much. My parents made me take singing lessons for years,” Justin groused. Then haltingly added, “If either of you don’t mind, I might go with you.”

Ernie laughed. “ _ Made _ you go to lessons, did they.”

Justin blushed and studiously inspected the table. “Shut up.”

Laughter rose up from that statement, bringing with it a sense of belonging and contentment. 

The worry that he wouldn’t fit in here was slowly fading away. It was only the first day and already he thought he had made some friends.

♩ ♪ ♫ ♬ ♭ ♩ ♪ ♫ ♬ ♭ ♩ ♪ ♫ ♬ ♭

The four boys were led to a room off a hallway to the right of the common room. Numbers marked the doors, the closest door to the common room had a 1, and the one at the end of the hall had a 7. Harry presumed that the number signified the year level. And since they stopped at the one marked with a 1 he thought that assumption was correct. As there were only four first year boys this year they would all be sharing a room. After living in a closet for half his life, Harry didn’t mind if he shared the room with twenty.

The prefect left after reminding them that curfew was at 9:30 and that breakfast started at 7:00. 

There were two beds on either wall facing each other. A desk and chair and a wardrobe stood by each bed. Their trunks were placed at the footboard along with their other belongings. Harry let out a breath he didn’t know he had been holding when he saw his things. He knew that they wouldn’t be lost somewhere or stolen but it felt like his safety blanket had been left somewhere and he had only just found it.

Too tired to contemplate doing anything but sleep, he went through his nightly ablutions, mumbled goodnight to his dorm mates, and face planted on his bed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading! And for sticking with, as it's not all that exciting yet.


	3. Epic III

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is a really short chapter.

At breakfast the next day, Harry stopped his head of house as she was handing out schedules. 

“Professor Sprout, I was wondering how I can join the school orchestra. When I asked about it in my letter, it mentioned a Frog Choir?”

The stout teacher looked caught off guard at the question, though she quickly recovered.

“Oh, you’ll be wanting to talk to Professor Flitwick, dearie. He’s in charge of it.”

Harry thanked her before looking down at his schedule. Charms was in the middle of the week so he’d have to wait a few days or seek Professor Flitwick out on his own. 

♩ ♪ ♫ ♬ ♭ ♩ ♪ ♫ ♬ ♭ ♩ ♪ ♫ ♬ ♭

Charms, like all the other classes that week, was only about classroom safety and theory. 

At the end of the hour and a half lesson, Flitwick dismissed them with an essay on the uses of charms in everyday life.

Harry, along with Susan and Justin, took his time packing away his notes and they approached the professor when the classroom had mostly emptied.

“Professor Flitwick,” he said hesitantly. “We were wondering if Hogwarts had an orchestra along with the choir? I asked in my acceptance letter and they said that there was a… frog choir. I didn’t know if it was literally a frog choir and either way I didn’t want to be in a choir, though Justin does.” Harry realized that he had been rambling. He had a terrible habit of doing that when he was nervous. So he quickly finished, “Anyway, Professor Sprout said I should talk to you about joining.”

As with Sprout, Professor Flitwick looked startled. What was it about this question that made everyone look at him like he was from outer space? He wondered how the person who replied to his acceptance letter had reacted.[1] 

“Of course! I never expected James Potter's child to be a part of anything involving music but you are half Lily.” Flitwick looked like he had been told Christmas was coming early. “The Frog Choir isn’t literally made up of frogs, at least not usually. That’s just our name. There is a small orchestra that accompanies the choir. I’d be happy to let you all join. Practice is every Friday after dinner for an hour, two if there is a concert coming up. There is a room by the painting of the shepherd and knight just down the corridor, that is where we meet. I look forward to seeing you all there.”

Harry and the others took the dismissal and thanked the professor before heading out of the classroom.

“Right then,” Justin stated, “let’s go find that classroom.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [1] When Minerva McGonagall read the words music and cello, she had to triple check the sender 


	4. The Name of the Game

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Still not to the exciting bit yet. But we're getting closer! Hang in there!  
> Halloween is going to be... epic. ;)

Harry had been at Hogwarts for a whole week[1] and it was everything he had imagined and more. He didn’t think he would ever get tired of seeing magic and the things it could do. Broomsticks that could actually fly, people that could turn into animals at will, and the other million impossible things he saw before breakfast. He didn’t think he would ever get tired of  _ doing  _ magic. Every time he made a feather float or changed a matchstick into a needle or brewed a potion a sense of wonder and euphoria filled him. He never wanted to go back to the muggle world. It was so mundane. Privet Drive had been headache-inducingly bland and he didn’t think he would ever want to go back to living in that world indefinitely. Five days and he was already converted. And that was even before he got to do the thing he was most looking forward to, the frog choir.

He had been jittery all day, evening couldn’t have come soon enough. Classes seemed to drag on and he thought that if he was still in muggle school instead he would have died from the anticipation. Even with the exciting material, he had barely paid attention to the professor’s lectures. 

Now he just had to make it through dinner.

“Slow down, You’re going to choke,” Susan said dryly. “Besides, it’s not like eating faster is going to change the time.” 

Harry blushed sheepishly, lowering another forkful of shepherd’s pie. “Sorry.”

Justin sighed exasperatedly. “You haven’t had to live with him. I swear I’ve caught him stroking his cello at least five times,  _ today _ .”

Hannah and Susan giggled while Harry’s blush returned with a vengeance.

“I’m just excited,” he mumbled.

“We all are Harry,” Susan said brightly, still giggling. “You’re just… like a puppy.” Harry pouted at his plate. “A very excited puppy,” she continued.

Zacharias slung an arm around Harry’s shoulders. “Don’t worry, I’ll take care of him. He’ll be a well-trained puppy under my wing.”

Ernie scoffed, “Yeah, right. You’d teach him how to get into trouble and then how to finagle his way out of it.”

Zacharias puffed up proudly. “He’d be good at it. Just look at his puppy eyes.”

“If anyone is going to be able to get out of anything with an innocent act, it’s going to be Hannah,” Susan said.

“Oh please, Hannah would never do anything to even get in trouble in the first place.”

“Exactly.”

“That’s not how it works. If you never get in trouble there’s no point in having an innocent act.”

The rest of dinner was spent debating if an innocent act counted if you really were innocent. 

“Come on, we’re going to be late if we don’t get a move on,” Harry interrupted. “And we still have to go drop by the dorms real quick.”

In primary school, the first day of orchestra was usually spent going over logistics but sometimes they actually got around to some sight-reading. So it was always a mixed bag on whether you were going to need your instrument or not.

Harry usually liked to play it safe and always brought his cello with him. It got annoying sometimes lugging it around when he didn’t need it but he still did it. 

This was especially true when you lived in a gigantic castle that had moving staircases and you had to carry 20 pounds up three floors.

Harry was exceedingly grateful that he had thought to get shoulder straps for his case before leaving. Carrying his cello one-handed would have been killer. As it was he was greatly envying Susan’s viola or Justin who didn’t have to carry anything.

He didn’t let it deter him though. 

He had come here to play music; he wasn’t going to let something silly like too lazy to carry his instrument stop him. So it was that with a great deal of huffing and puffing on his part, they had finally made it to the music room.

The doorway was big enough that Harry, Justin, and Susan could enter the room side by side. 

The music room had a vaulted roof that shouldn’t have been possible considering they were on the third floor. The walls looked bare; Harry’s old classroom had had acoustic panels lining the walls. It was a shock not to see them. He wondered if there was a spell that changed the acoustics of a room. 

There were risers in one corner but instead of the portable kind they would use in primary school to take class pictures, the floor itself was three different heights. A big empty space was next to the risers which was probably where the orchestra would set up. A few chair and stand racks lined the wall to the right of the door. On the walls on either side of the doorway were chalkboards and the left wall had a gigantic calendar on it. And in the middle of the room was a podium. A lot taller than Harry was used to but thinking of the diminutive professor, he probably needed the extra height.

By now the room was full, groups of students loitered and chatted while they waited for Flitwick to appear. After five days at Hogwarts and seeing hardly any integration between Houses Harry was surprised to note that although the groups were divided by years - which made sense - there was someone from each house.

Their own year-mates were near the door, next to the stand racks. The majority looks to be Slytherins and Ravenclaws [2]. In the sea of green and blue, there are only two red uniforms. Hermione was doing a marvelous impression of a Ravenclaw but Neville looked terrified next to the Slytherins, especially Draco.

The Hufflepuffs walked towards the group. Or specifically Neville, before he had a heart attack.

“Hey Neville, right?” Harry called out, he thought about throwing an arm over his shoulder but thought that would be a bit much and do the opposite of what he wanted to accomplish. “Draco.” He turned towards the other Slytherin boys. “I could try to match faces to names but I think it would be easier to just introduce ourselves.”

Hufflepuff only shared charms and herbology with the Slytherins. It would be almost impossible to go a week without hearing names, but matching them to the correct person was a bit more difficult. 

Draco puffed up self importantly. “This is Theodore Nott.” He made a swirling hand gesture at a willowy boy with sandy brown hair and hazel eyes. 

“Call me Theo, unless you want to be hexed.”

That was all he contributed before turning his attention to the Ravenclaws and the Slytherin Girls conversation.

Draco continued.

“And this is-”

“Blaise Zabini,” A tall dark-skinned boy cut in, “Don’t mind Theo. He’s not much for conversation.”

Where Theo seemed to despise social interaction Blaise thrived on it. He also seemed to have the natural grace that Draco was trying hard to achieve.

Harry nodded at each of them. They probably knew who he was because apparently  _ everyone _ in the wizarding world knew he was. It was weird. But he thought it would be strange not to introduce himself.

“Harry Potter.” He gestured behind him. “And these are my friends. Justin Finch-Fletchley, Susan Bones, and Hannah Abbott.”

Harry having no idea what to say went with the usual, “So what instrument do you play... or are you a part of the choir? I play the cello.”

“I play the harp,” Draco said in the most pretentious voice Harry had ever heard.

He bit his lip so that he didn’t burst out laughing.

“I’m in the choir, baritone,” Blaise said and nudged Theo. “Theo is the new pianist.”

Justin nodded. “I’m in the choir too, though I’m a tenor.”

“Is that a viola, Neville?” Susan asked. “I’m always excited to meet a fellow violist.” 

Harry had never been a part of an orchestra where the violas weren’t ecstatic to meet one another.

Neville nodded hesitantly, “Yeah, Gran thought I should have chosen the bass or violin, but I like it.”

“Well, I’m glad.” 

A clap resounded through the room, stopping conversations and turning attention to the podium. 

Flitwick had entered without Harry noticing. 

“Welcome everyone to the first meeting of The Frog Choir!”

Loud clapping and shouts came from the upper years. To which Flitwick looked bemused by.

“This meeting will just be logistics. Let’s get started shall we.” 

An expectant air overtook the room. Everyone imperceptibly leaned closer, listening closely. Which was a surprise to Harry as there were always a couple of people who were only there because their parents forced them to or because their friends were there and they wanted to do the same things as them. 

“First, a reminder that you have to be passing your classes to be in the Frog Choir. Make sure to maintain at least an A average. Now, on to the good stuff.” He rubbed his hands together excitedly. “Everyone in the orchestra is required to perform a playing test to determine seating. That will be determined by Miss Farley, who is concertmaster this year, and section leaders in the next week. Practices will be every Friday at this time for an hour. After every practice, _everyone_ will help clean up with or without magic.” Here he leveled a look at a group of fifth years. “The last two practices before a concert will be in the Great Hall rather than here. There will be two performances this year, three if there are enough members staying over Christmas break.” He paused for breath and looked around the room making sure everyone was still paying attention. “The first performance will be on Halloween at the feast. Choir and our pianist will receive the music today, the orchestra next week after the playing test. The second performance will be just after Easter break. Concert dress is the school uniform.” He paused again. “Are there any questions?”

A Gryffindor in the back shouted, “What are we playing for Halloween?”

Flitwick lit up, “Ah, yes. This year we are going to be performing  _ O Fortuna _ by Carl Orff. A little different than some of the others we’ve done but I think you all can do it.”

There were a few other questions: what the playing test would be like, what they needed for it, how many people would have to stay over break for there to be a concert, and such.

Flitwick dismissed them. 

The meeting had only lasted fifteen minutes.

Hannah, Susan, and Harry waited by the door for Justin to get his music. 

The antsy feeling Harry had been dealing with all week had only gotten worse. He was so close to playing with a group again. There was something magical about playing in an orchestra. Duets and such and even solo were well and good but there was something that made everything ten times as enjoyable when a piece of music was played by more than a couple people. 

Justin came bounding up to them, holding the sheet music he had been perusing up in his hand. “I’ve never sung in Latin before, I think I’m gonna enjoy this.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [1] Well technically only five days   
> [2] Which based on their earlier conversation at the sorting feast makes sense


End file.
